Lion in a Wolf's Den
by maesteroftales
Summary: What if things turned out different? AU
1. A Lioness in a Ruin

Cersei Lannister, when she was young, had sworn that the most terrifying place in the world for her was the Darkling Pools in Casterly Rock. The Pools themselves were old mine shafts that had flooded in the later days of Loren the Last that for some reason were never sealed off. Cersei could still recall the times her and Jaime would sneak out of their room in the middle of night to get a glimpse of the dark waters. She could still recall the way...

 _Down the hall, left at the lion with the chipped tooth, down the servant's stairs, through the stables, left at the third storeroom, right at the shelves of cheese, down the small staircase and left into the shafts..._

And she could still picture the scene. Dry sandstone steps disappearing into waters as dark as night. If you moved the torch just the right way, you could see the glints of untapped gold veins sparkle like stars on a dark night. Of course back then, their Uncle Gerion had convinced them that the glints were not of gold but of the eyes of dark creatures from the deep who would drag you down into the dark if you got too close.

Jaime and her would dare each other to dip their toes into the waters to see who was bravest. Often times she would find a way to scare him off by kicking the water or pushing him forward. But one night she had felt something cold and slimy touch her foot and it sent both of them screaming up to the rooms (as well as a stern reprimand from their father). She knew of course that it had probably just been some blind cave fish but regardless, she and Jaime never went down there again.

Yes, the Darkling Pools had been scary and Cersei and Jaime had both grown up. But now Cersei had discovered a truly terrifying place.

Whereas the Darkling Pools were stuffy and deep in the earth, the Widow's Tower of Harrenhal was high in the sky and it seemed a breeze was always blowing through it. During the day the tower was quiet with only the distant sounds of the yard rising up to her ears. But at night, when everything should have been quiet, she heard the noises.

Quiet moans, hushed whispers, taps at the stone and at her chamber door. One night she had thought someone was hissing her name from the fireplace. And since that night she had taken to sharing her room with her handmaiden once the sun had set.

Unfortunately, this in itself was a sacrifice as she could not stand her handmaiden.

Jeyne Algood was a thin girl whose stringy blonde hair fell over her pointed nose and whose voice was so nasally that Cersei couldn't understand why the girl bothered using her mouth at all. The Algoods themselves were minor nobles who held the lands closest to Casterly Rock and Lannisport. And though their sigil seemed to imply some sort of wealth with its golden wreath on a royal blue field, they were in fact very poor.

"They've always been someone's vassal," her father had told her once in regards to the family, "They may have once been wealthy in the past but since the time of Lancel V they've been forced to rely on tourney winnings to keep Geldenhill from falling apart. They have always been loyal to our house but mostly out of desperation for handouts instead of true loyalty. Flatterers, grand-standers, and beggars. Never take what they say of face value. The rarely mean it."

Cersei could certainly understand what her father meant. Jeyne, when she was not mooning over some knight or lesser lord, would be praising her beauty and saying how much she wished to have such curls, or eyes, or breasts, or skin.

 _Not a chance with your mother_ , she would always think to herself. Jeyne's mother had been the ugliest of a Lannisport merchant's daughters but her father had been wealthy and desperate to marry her off and Lord Algood had been very poor and desperate for coin. "Never has there been such a fortuitous marriage," Uncle Gerion would laugh.

Currently the girl was blabbing on about some hedge knight currently with the royal army that had gathered at Harrenhal, "Oh and his eyes are so brown! And it is just so easy for me to get lost in them and his smile... oh his smile..."

Cersei set on her fake courtly smile for the girl, "That's lovely Jeyne. Mayhaps you should see if he will ask your father for your hand?"

"Oh..." Jeyne blushed a crimson deeper than Cersei's dress, "I-I shouldn't. Father his hoping to make a good match for me. Maybe a Marbrand or a Lydden."

 _A Frey more like then not if he is still in debt_ , she thought but just smiled, "And I'm sure you will be a lovely bride for that lucky lord."

 _Gods preserve that man..._

The skinny thing smiled gaily and was about to start rambling on again when one of her father's guards stepped in with a bow, "M'lady Cersei, your father requires your presence in the Kingspyre."

Cersei was quick to escape her captor of a hand maiden so she did not bother asking why, "Of course, lead the way. I shall return later, Jeyne." But secretly she hoped Jeyne would be off flirting with some man-at-arms when she did.

She followed the crimson cloaked man out of the room and down the hall where they went out onto the stone bridge that linked the Widow's Tower to the Kingspyre. From this vantage point, she could see almost all of Harrenhal.

The ruined castle was filled to the brim with those who had chosen the heir over the sire. Lord Blackwood's pale weirwood fluttered over the sharp edged Tower of Dread. The stout Wailing Tower held the sky blue and golden banners of House Lefford from its windows. On the far edge of the castle, in the Tower of Ghosts, the Black Bats of House Whent still resided. Behind her she new her father's golden lion held command. And as she looked up ahead of her she could just barely see the red and black of her liege's banner half hidden by the clouds.

The two of them entered the large tower and slowly began to wind their way up the large staircase that ran along the edges of the great structure. Along their way, they ran into a few notable members of the King's army.

Ser Oswell Whent was a walking contrast, his dark hair and dark eyes clashing with his pale platemail. He did not give them so much as a look. The other knight however cracked a grin that filled Cersei with the greatest annoyance.

"Dear sister," Ser Jaime clucked in mock disapproval, "You have been cruel to make our father wait so long..."

 _Our father or you?_ she thought snidely. They had not been alone together for some time and whenever he passed she could see the desperation in his eyes. _Risky,_ she thought when she considered that her father was but doors down form her chamber. _Stupid,_ followed after when she also knew the King himself was in the same castle.

"I came as soon as I heard, dear brother," she replied with as much grace and hidden venom she could muster, "I've no wings so do not mistake me for a raven, featherbrain that you are."

This produced a slight cough and a lazy grin from Ser Oswell. But Jaime just gave her a grin. Not a friendly grin or even his classic grin laced with condescension. No, this one was almost angry.

 _Like a cat that's finally caught its mouse._

But despite that grin and his evil eye, her brother assisted Ser Oswell in swinging open the two doors of dark oak to let her in.

The room she now found herself in was dim and quiet with only the scratching of a quill on paper and the crackling of burning logs to fill the silence. The walls, like the rest of Harrenhal were comprised of black stone, twisted and distorted and fused together into ugly cold masses. There was a large fireplace along the left wall casting ominous red light into the otherwise dark room, a large highbacked chair stood in front of it, creating a shadowy pillar that extended across the floor and into the darkness.

But ahead, sitting at a table and writing out on parchment was her father, illuminated by a golden glow of three bright candles set on a short candelabra. Swiftly she moved to the open seat across from him and sat down.

Lord Tywin Lannister took no notice that she had sat down and simple continued his correspondence without breaking stride. A younger or bolder Cersei might make some small noise to alert him of her presence or demand an explanation, but she had learned long ago that it was best to let her father finish his work in peace, lest his force her down with his cool green eyes.

A few moments later he scrawled out his name in a spidery hand upon the bottom of the parchment before setting his quill aside and looking up at his daughter.

"Be thankful you were born a woman, Cersei," he said as he rolled up and began pouring wax over the folded paper, "That you need never command during a war."

 _You know nothing of being a woman, Father_ , Cersei thought, _Where every day is a war and your only levy is yourself._

"Lord Mallister is overly bold," Lord Tywin continued, pressing the King's seal into the wax, "He suggests we use our fleets at Lannisport and Seagard to attack Oldtown without even acknowledging the fact that the just the Redwynes posses almost twice our ships not to mention the sellsails bought by the Hightowers. All while Lord Staunton is overly cautious and thinks that we could get any decent terms if we negotiate."

Cersei nodded along, seeing her father's reason, "And what does His Grace think?"

"His Grace thinks that it would be best if he trusts his Hand to develop the strategy."

Cersei turned her head to see a figure rise from the chair by the fireplace.

Once upon a time, Cersei would have praised him as her Silver Prince and longed to be his wife. He had been beautiful and sad and she had planned to fix his woes. But now, he was different. He was just as silver as he had been when she first laid eyes on the Targaryen, but his rebellion against his father and now a war against his brother had left him worried and haggard.

His face, once full and strong now looked gaunt with his eyes sagging due to lack of sleep. His hair no longer flowed free as it once had but now pulled back into a reserved ponytail. He wore the black and red of his house on his everyday garb, though now there was often more black than red. And the simple golden band of a crown that had belonged to his great-grandfather as well as Kings Aegon III and Viserys II seemed to weigh him down, forcing his neck to bend just a bit.

Rhaegar Targaryen I of the House Targaryen had certainly seen fairer days and the gloom of Harrenhal had done little to help.

Despite her surprise at his sudden appearance, Cersei dipped down into a flustered curtsy, "Your Grace."

The King merely gave her a soft smile and a nod before moving to a large table off to the side. A large map of Westeros sat upon it with little carved figures set upon it. Rhaegar picked up a red dragon from Harrenhal and appraised it before turning to Cersei, "Tell me, my lady, do you think I can win this war?"

This took Cersei aback. She had not expected him to come to her with such a question. But she did not forget her courtesy and gave her reply, "Of course you will, Your Grace. You've won all previous battles and you are beloved by the realm."

At that, Rhaegar gave a mirthless laugh, "At one time, I suppose. But that was before I slew my own father which resulted in the fire that killed my own mother. I am named a kinslayer by Ser Gerold and half of my father's Kingsguard. Most of the Reach has backed my little brother's claim. What allies I do have are trying suppress rebellion in their own kingdoms or simply cannot reach me. No, my lady. I may have won every battle prior to the Burning of King's Landing but that was when my enemies were scattered and I had the hate toward my father to fall back on. But now, many see me as a power hungry heir who couldn't wait to get what was rightfully his. Others simply find it more profitable to put the crown on Viserys' head. I've heard tell how they plan to wed him to a Hightower girl. Who do you think the Seven Kingdoms would support? A King with a half Dornish heir or a child born of the noble Hightower blood?"

Cersei took a moment to realize it was an actual question posed. Hesitantly she spoke her mind, "The Reach of course would prefer an heir with Reacher blood. The Dornish would love the crown to pass to one of their own. The Vale would back the Hightowers for their rich Andal blood. My father already backs you. The Riverlords only care if the heir would help protect them. The Ironborn would be wholly indifferent as would the North I suppose. And the Stormlanders would pick a Reacher just to spite the Dornish."

Rhaegar nodded as she spoke and gave a cheerless smile at her last comment, "And so the last two you name are the vassals I need the most. I have sent raven after raven to Storms End to gain the support of my cousin but still Lord Robert declares himself neutral in the affair. I've even had my... friend, Lady Lyanna, try to speak to her husband but for every reason she gives for joining me, Robert's brother Stannis gives a reason for staying neutral. And so, Storms End will not raise its banners. Unless we get his brother to join us."

"I wish you all the luck then," Cersei replied, "As I have heard it, Ser Stannis is newly knighted and very stubborn."

Rhaegar shook his head, "I am well aware of the kind of man Ser Stannis is. It is not him I am referring to."

Cersei quirked her brow, "Renly Baratheon is but five years old. I doubt Lord Robert takes his thoughts into account."

"Stannis and Renly are indeed his brothers by blood," her father cut in, "But Lord Robert is more affectionate of his brother-in-law than either of them."

"Lord Stark?" Cersei asked, confused and trying to figure out which damn wolf they were referring to.

"Lord Eddard," Rhaegar confirmed with a nod of his head, "I had the full support of his father and elder brother. But when they died along with my father, Lord Eddard felt that he had no obligation left toward the fight and will not risk any northern lives in the war as it is now."

Tywin nodded knowingly, "He has fortified Moat Cailin and has had Lord Reed turn back any envoys entering the Neck, both ours and the Hightower's."

"Then what do you mean to do about it?" Cersei asked, then instantly regretted as the King gave her father a look.

"I shall leave you two to discuss the matter..." the Targaryen gave a small bow to the two of them and exited the room.

Once it was just father and daughter left in the room, Cersei turned to her father, "What does he mean by that?"

"You will marry Eddard Stark and bring the North and Stormlands into the fold," her father declared, not missing a beat, "You will gain his love, bear his children, and council him always in our favor."

Cersei was speechless. Marry? A wild northern lord? Without being asked at any point? No. Surely not. Perhaps there was another way?

"M-Must it be me? I mean, I hardly know the man. He hardly knows me."

"It matters not if he knows you," her father sat back down in his chair, "He will gain a fair wife to give him heirs as well as a sizable dowry that will give the North a well needed boost of income. Then he will feel obligated to side with us."

Cersei searched her mind for any excuse before she remembered Harrenhal, "Why not marry him to Ashara Dayne? Everyone knows the two of them have affection for each other."

Tywin gave a nod, "Ser Arthur suggested the same thing. But I argued against it."

"Why?"

"It doesn't benefit House Lannister as much as this will."

"How did you convince the King to go against his best friend?"

Her father simply leaned back in his chair, "Because Ser Arthur isn't providing the bulk of his army."

Cersei could hold it in no longer and blurted out, "But why me!? Why not one the cousins!? WHY ME!?"

A long silence followed that Cersei felt took far too long. Not a word was said as the cold eyes of her father pierced her very resolve. The torturous quiet stretched on till her father's cold voice interjected, "I might say that I would not insult Lord Stark with a lesser Lannister or that it is past time you were wed and Lord Stark is an excellent match. But instead I will simply say that you will obey because I am your father and head of House Lannister."

"But-"

"You will leave tomorrow morning at dawn with your Uncle Tygett and head straight for Winterfell."

"I-"

"And you will do it without complaint."

"Fath-"

"Am I understood?"

The two lions stared at each other harshly before Cersei finally backed down, "Yes father."

Lord Tywin simply leaned back, "You are dismissed."

Cersei ran all the way back to her chambers, tears stinging her eyes and did not even bother to hear Jaime call out for her.

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 **Well I lied about the Christmas thing but I hope you guys enjoy this new format. If you like it or find something you don't like, don't hesitate to add a review. That's what they are for. I hope to come out with the next chapter soon. Enjoy!**


	2. Over the Rivers and Through the Woods

The journey North was not one Cersei enjoyed or believed she would ever cherish. They had set out in the dark hours of the early morning with the intention of reaching Darry by evening. The weather was abysmal, with clouds hanging across the sky spitting drizzle down on them with gusts of wind driving in from the east. Cersei was certainly warmer in her heavy crimson cloak than a member of her 300 soldier escort but even she felt the tips of her ears being nipped at by the cold.

And her traveling companions were no better. Tygett Lannister was a man of few words and what words one could prompt from him were often curt and clipped. Her gaggle of handmaidens were all to quick to say 'yes' to her every word. And Jeyne Algood was simply the worst.

Somehow Cersei was not so lucky as to buck the tiresome girl off her as Lord Algood had begged the honor of her father that his daughter stay on as her handmaiden. Cersei felt her father agreed just so the man would shut up. Either way, the annoying girl was now riding beside her, sniffling and sneezing into her thin blue cloak.

And so, Cersei was forced to ride in silence through the wind and rain, her mind constantly wandering North and her possible husband.

 _A savage_ , she thought, gritting her teeth _, Father is hoping to marry me to a savage. Other ladies will marry strong lords and loyal bannermen. But I get a northman in furs far from my home._

And so, even in the cold rain, she seethed and boiled with anger the entire ride.

It was afternoon when they reached Castle Darry, only to find it charred and smoking. Her uncle had rode forth to a couple of Mooten men who were putting out the fires.

"Lord Darry and his outlaw band," their sergeant at arms reported, a flushed keg of a man with a red salmon on his chest, "Seems the Plowman didn't like how we captured his home so quick at the beginning. He sent in a few of his boys last night and set fires all about. Only the kitchens aren't charred now."

When Uncle Tygett tried to say how they needed shelter for the night the sergeant just shrugged, "Well, you'll not anything find but ash here, mi'lord. If you need a place to stay, I'd suggest the Inn at the Crossroads. Its just across the ford and its safe enough. Ser Halmon Paege is using it as a base for his searches for Lords Darry and Smallwood. Now off with you, I've this fire to put out!"

So the party was forced to cross the Trident as the sun began to set.

It was a difficult crossing. The rains had raised the river by a good foot and the force of the water slowed the wagons immensely. All the while, her Uncle Tygett was on edge. He did not like the idea of being caught out in the water by one of the rebel riverlords' outlaw bands.

But the worst was the corpses. Floating down the river like shadowed wraiths they moved past, bloated and rotting. Some wore blues and others blacks and some reds and some greys. But all stank of death and all continued their slow trip to the sea and many were filled with arrows and bedecked with the sigils of House Tully.

"The leftovers of the Sack of Riverrun," her Uncle said, nodding, "Many a trout fell into the river that day and few escaped the eyes of Aerys' archers."

The men did their best to push the bodies away with their poleaxes and pikes but one body drifted too close to Jeyne's horse and spooked them both so much that the girl had to be pulled from the river soaking, spluttering, and shivering. The sight would have been very amusing to Cersei had the body not that scared the horse not had the direwolf of stark emblazoned on its breast.

 _Lord Rickard and his heir were at Riverrun when Aerys fell upon it_ , she remembered, _The attack occurred during Lord Brandon's wedding to Lady Catelyn. Some escaped, but most died, including the Starks._

By the time the entire party had crossed it was now night and they still had a good hours ride till they reached the Inn. Jeyne had the chills as the wind blew at her damp clothes and made her shiver. The men lit lanterns and pointed their weapons at any sound made in the brush that lined the road. Everyone was on edge until they reached the Inn.

It was a welcome sight, Cersei decided, a strong wooden building with warm light pouring from every window. The stable was filled with horses and the yard was filled with several black tents with the snakes of House Paege emblazoned on their sides.

When their party came into the view, they already had Ser Halmon waiting for them at the door.

"My outriders saw you crossing the ford," he said as he welcomed them in, "Though you may not have seen them."

The Knight of the Two Snakes was a thin looking man bedecked in black with stripes of red and white flowing down his arms. He had a very courteous nature about him and seemed to have a soft smile always plying his dry lips.

"I'm now a glorified hunter, I suppose," he told them over a dinner of roasted boar that had been found on one of the hunts. "After their defeat at Harrenfield, all the lords loyal to Aerys fled, either back to their castles or into the woods. The Green Vances were able to talk their kin at Wayfarer's Rest to lay down their arms. Lord Piper is battling Lord Ryger along the God's Eye and it is no surprise that Lord Blackwood was rushing to siege Stonehedge when word came that the Bracken's lost many of their men at the Route of Pennytree. As for me, Ser Brynden wants Lords Darry and Smallwood caught and hung to end this robber nonsense."

Uncle Tygett nodded, chewing a piece of boar, "How is the Blackfish handling things?"

"Well enough, I suppose," Paege nodded thoughtfully, sipping his wine, "He accepted your brother's offer to keep young Lord Edmure safe at Casterly Rock till all this nonsense is taken care of."

"And Ser Brynden himself?" Cersei asked, "Is he doing anything himself?"

At that, Ser Halmon frowned and stared into the broth that had been set before him, "He's up at Seagard. He doesn't leave his nieces side..."

For a second her uncle was silent before asking, "How is Lady Catelyn?"

"The Mallister's maester says she might not live for long and if she does, she'll be forever scarred. King Aerys was not... kind to her during her captivity..."

Nothing else needed to be said. When word had reached Casterly Rock of Lady Catelyn's capture, her father had merely sighed and shook his head, "It would have better if she had died with her sister. Aerys will be about as kind a warden as Gregor Clegane." Cersei knew of course what that all meant. At nights when Lady Catelyn should have been lying with Brandon Stark, instead she was forced upon by the Mad King...

"A thousand curses on that King..." Tygett growled under his breath as he shook his head.

"And his followers," Ser Halmon nodded, "Though swords would be of more use here than curses. These outlaws may be small in number but they are given to hiding in the trees and only moving at night. I've not the men to give a full search, only to follow leads that are old and most likely false."

"The Vale is not far from here," her Uncle gave a grunt, "Have you sought help from there?"

Ser Halmon nodded though his face was grim, "I've sent riders up to treat with Ser Alwyn Coldwater at the Bloody Gate to persuade him to send men to help hunt out these brigand lords, but he's only sent his condolences. 'Lord Arryn has his own rebellion on his hands,' the Knight of the Gate says. 'Gulltown is in open revolt and has hired sellswords to defend its walls. The northern lords of the Vale are still marshaling their forces and any that have been prepared are already with Lord Arryn in the siege camps. Until the Graftons and Arryns of Gulltown are brought to heel, the Vale can send no help lest they return home to find mercenaries sitting in their keeps when they return.'"

The riverlander spat, "Yet the bugger still has five hundred men with him up in that pass. I'd only need a hundred more men to work out where these outlaws are hiding!"

Cersei just sat and nibbled at the boar. What did she care for this man's problems? He had a duty to do yet all he did was complain about how he could not do it. If he could not do it, what use was he?

Despite her thoughts, her Uncle Tygett just gave an understanding nod before asking, "Do you think we would have any trouble on the road north of here?"

"North?" Ser Paege raised his eyebrows, "Well no. Lord Frey, for all his cowardice and refusal to act is not one to let outlaws roam his lands and bereft him of good tax money. He's set the Haighs and Erenfords about to patrol from the Neck to Fairmarket. You should have no problem."

The golden haired warrior gave a small smile and stood up, "Then I would be more than willing to leave you the hundred men you require?"

"Truly?" Ser Halmon blustered, "You would?"

Cersei's eyes widened and she cleared her throat, "Uncle, is that wise? I have no doubt that Ser Paege knows the area but there is no guarantee that the outlaws won't be north of here."

Tygett just shrugged, "Even if they are North of here, Ser Halmon and his men would pick up on their trail. And besides, we are too armed to make an easy target for them. And battle would bring the Freys down on them."

"My father has ordered you to see me safe to the North, dear Uncle," she said in the politest growl she could, "Not give away our escort to hunting parties."

Ser Halmon, for all his grace, seemed a bit ashamed by this, "Good Ser, if your niece feels that she needs greater protection than there is no need for you to-"

The riverlands knight was interrupted by the sound of Tygett's heavy sword being thrown onto the table. The candle's shadows danced across his scarred face and glistened in his long golden hair. While her father gave the impression of a wizened leader of a pride, Tygett was the young predator, ferocious and daring. And in this light, Cersei was afraid of him.

"This," he said in a voice more gravelly than usual, "Is the only protection you need, niece." He spat the word like it was an insult.

"Do you know how many men this sword has slain? Well more than your father has. Aye, he is deadly enough when he has men to do his dirty work, but I am the one who does it. I am the one who beheads, disembowels and dismembers. I have put up with his lectures day in and day out and I have lived with them as he is my brother. But I will not be lectured in tactics by my niece who wouldn't know how to swing a blade if the Warrior himself was her teacher!"

Their eyes met across the table, both defiant. Both Lannisters. Finally Tygett broke the silence once more.

"Ser Halmon will keep a hundred men here for his expeditions into the woods. They will answer to him until I come this way again. That is final. Now I find myself weary of company and of lack of sleep. Ser Halmon."

He gave a small bow.

"Niece."

He gave a glare. And with that his heavy foot falls went up the steps and to his room.

After that bit of drama, no one was like to stay and chat. It was not long before Ser Halmon gave a small cough and excuse about camp inspection that Cersei didn't care a lick about. She held in her fury as she went up to her room, escorted by Jeyne and only let out when the Algood had closed the door.

"Who does he think he is!?" she hissed as Jeyne helped her out of her dress, "That up-jumped third son has no right to speak to me in that way. I see now why father does not speak much of him! The man goes too high above his station and does not know his place!"

"Of course my lady," Jeyne parroted through her stuffy nose, "Most unchivalrous..."

"As soon as we reach Winterfell, I will write to father about his brother's abysmal behavior! The way he swung that sword about like he was the greatest knight to ever live! Jaime could best him and is only at half his age! Are you almost done yet!?

Jeyne finished fumbling with the laces and nodded tiredly, "Y-Yes mi'lady."

A chill of the night hit Cersei as she undressed to her shift. "Draw me a bath," she said, sitting into a chair and pouring out a glass of wine from a jug that had been set out on the table, "Not too hot but definitely not cold. Then you can go to sleep."

The Algood girl seemed to work extra hard with the promise of sleep and soon a large copper tub had been brought in and filled with steaming water. Cersei waved her off as she settled into the warm embrace of the tub. And as she lay there she dreamed of Rhaegar and of Jaime... and of living at court, beloved by all in a summer that never ended. Oh how sweet that dream was.

Yet she knew that tomorrow she would have to awake and head into the North where comfort was a thing unheard of...

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 **Thanks for reading! Your reviews are what helps me improve and keep me going! I hope to get the next chapter out soon.**


	3. Wolves in the Night

For Eddard Stark, late nights had always been a part of him. When he was young and his mother yet lived, he would wait for her to kiss his head and walk out before running to a window to throw it open and stare at the moon and the stars till his eyes grew weary. In the Vale, he would have done much the same but instead found himself often in the cellars of the Eyrie, sipping from a pint of ale while Robert laughed with the other wards and flirted with the maidservants who would bring them their drinks.

 _Though after Robert they could hardly be called maids,_ he thought, recalling a smiling black haired, blue-eyed little girl who Robert was quite fond of. And so some of the nights were spent visiting the child and watching Robert throw her into the air to send her into waves of giggles.

All these memories of late nights were memories of quiet, of laughter, and of happiness.

Which made the recent late nights all the more sour. There was no laughter or happiness in Winterfell now. How could there be? It had been a moons turn since their lord and his heir had died in the South and all while their new lord did nothing. He heard the whispers of _weak_ and _craven_ but he paid them no heed. The whispers of servants were far less dangerous than the ravens of vassals.

When word of Riverrun's sacking reached the North, all turned to see what the wolf would order. But the only ravens that left Winterfell that night were orders to Lord Reed to close the Neck to any who wished to pass and to Lord Manderly to halt trade with any of the southern kingdoms.

These orders did not sit well with some of the lords as Ned was now learning, sitting in his solar as Maester Luwin read out all the words carried by the ravens that day.

"This letter," the grey man was saying, "Is from Lord Dustin, requesting once more that you go to war to avenge your brother and father."

This made Ned shake his head. Willam Dustin was a true and loyal friend and he knew that the Lord of Barrowton was only eager to avenge his liege's family but he was not thinking clearly.

"And who should we fight then?" he asked shaking his head, "Rhaegar or Viserys? Neither assisted in their father's attack and while many of the men who served Aerys now serve the younger brother, they are willing to give us and the Tullys recompense. Lord Dustin longs for blood but does not know whose. That is a very dangerous mood. Write that I understand his anger but he is too restrain himself till I give the word. Next?"

The maester shuffled out another rolled up scroll, sealed in dark green wax, "Lord Mormont requests orders. Bear Island is so remote that they most likely just received word."

"Send him the orders we gave the others. They are to muster their forces but await my command. Next?"

"From Lords Lake and Bolton along the Kingsroad. Apparently your idea to watch the Umbers closely has paid off. The Umbers attempted to force their way across the Last Bridge but Lord Lake was able to hold them off until Lord Bolton arrived to reinforce the crossing. Lord Lake lost fifty men in the skirmish and Lord Bolton lost ten." The maester pulled out another scroll and placed it next to the other, "Lord Umber has also written. He is very irate as apparently he lost near one hundred men. He has also called into question your... ehm, manhood it seems."

Ned put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples gently. The North was tearing itself apart. Lords like Umber were all too eager to fight while others waited his word. And now the two were drawing blood. He looked up, steel in his eyes, "Inform Lord Umber that should he try a crossing like that again, he will learn of my 'manhood' when I bring the roof of Last Hearth crashing down on him. As for Lord Lake and Lord Bolton, commend them and say they are to camp at the Last Bridge till further notice. And alert Lord Karstark to watch the Umber lands to the east. I doubt Greatjon will take this lying down."

The maester nodded and brought out two final scrolls which Ned raised an eye to. For it wasn't the paper itself that caught his attention but the seals. Each was sealed with a three headed dragon. But where as one was paired with a tall tower the other was paired with a golden lion.

Luwin opened up the towered scroll first.

" _To Eddard Stark,_ " he read out, " _Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North. His Grace, King Viserys III, rightful King of the Andals, Rhonyar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, does request your aid in the putting down of the vile kinslayer and pretender, Rhaegar Targaryen, as well as his band of rebels. His Grace offers you a regal match with my grandniece Lynesse should you enter the war. If you are able to convince Lord Arryn to side with us he offers you a position as his Master of Laws and if you convince Lord Baratheon as well, he promises you twenty percent of all wealth plundered from Casterly Rock when it is taken as well as a royal marriage of any children you may have with Lady Lynesse. These are generous terms and we ask that you look them over closely. In his Grace's service, Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Lord Regent."_

A quiet fell over the room as Luwin finished, filled only with the crackling of the small fire on the hearth. Finally, Eddard looked up.

"Ser Gerold offers much, perhaps too much... The Hightowers are rich and marrying one could bring a decent dowry. The Master of Laws is an honorable position and well respected in the realm. And twenty percent of Casterly Rock's wealth could build an entire city. But..."

"But, my lord?"

"But a Hightower girl is not my brother, the position of Master of Laws is not my father, and there is not enough gold in Casterly Rock to let me forget that while my father was roasted and my brother was hung, Gerold Hightower watched and did nothing."

Maester Luwin tried to calm the young lord, "Ser Gerold is an honorable man. If he were not bound to The Mad King I am sure he would have risen against such injustice."

"Knowing that he had no choice," Ned sighed, slumping into the lord's chair, "Does not make him a saint in my eyes. I will not befriend him or ally with him."

"Of course, my lord."

"And what does the other dragon wish of me?" he asked, gripping a cup of water tightly before bringing it to his lips.

Maester Luwin was slow to read the next letter out but soon began to speak softly, " _Lord Eddard, I know I cannot bring back your brother and father. If I had such a power, know that my mother would be back among us as well. I cannot undo the mistakes of my father, but I can attempt to repair them. I have an envoy en route to your holdings with a proposition for you and I pray you take it. This war may be the death of the Seven Kingdoms and perhaps of my very house. During the Dance of the Dragons, Cregan Stark rose up for Rhaenyra Targaryen and helped set the kingdoms to rights when the conflict had ceased. The Hand for a Day was swift, decisive, and just. Who is to say what is swift, decisive, or just in such times as these, but I pray that you might be the one to have a hand in such work. All my respect, King Rhaegar I Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms."_

Ned said nothing as the sound of the crackling fire filled the emptiness of the room. As he sat and pondered, Maester Luwin shifted his feet, causing his chains to jangle against his grey robes. The harsh metallic noise woke the young Lord Stark from his thoughts and he turned toward the grey man.

"You may think me remiss in my learning, maester, but what did Cregan Stark do?"

Luwin set the letter on the table and shuffled to take a seat, "Well, my lord, Cregan Stark was Lord of Winterfell at the time of the Dance of the Dragons. When war erupted, the North was largely ignored. It was far away, remote, and would take too much time to rally. Aegon II did not even bother sending an envoy, thinking the war would be over before the Starks could come down the Neck. So Lord Cregan was quite surprised when the dragon Vermax landed in his courtyard. Rhaenyra Targaryen had known she would need soldiers if she were going to hold the territory her dragons won, so she had not wasted any potential allies. When Jacaerys Velaryon returned south, he bore with him the support of the North."

"But if I recall, Lord Cregan never fought in any battles."

"That is true, my lord," Luwin bobbed his head, "Any northmen that fought in the actual Dance were under the command of Rodrik Dustin of Barrowton who had gone ahead with a smaller advanced guard while Lord Stark's army made their way south. When Lord Cregan arrived at King's Landing, Corlys Velaryon had already secured a peace treaty and young Aegon III sat the throne."

Ned frowned, "Then what was the point if he was late to the battles?"

Luwin gave a small laugh, "The point, my lord, was that all the other armies were small, broken, and scattered while Lord Cregan's force was large, fresh, and ready for battle. At that time, Lord Cregan could have imposed his will over the King and become a regent. Instead he took only the position of Hand, spent a day sitting in judgement, sending men to the wall, and chopping heads. Then, when all that was finished, he left for the North."

Ned had to sit for a moment, rubbing his thumb idly over his bottom lip before saying, "Why?"

"Why what, my lord?"

"Why did he give up the Handship so fast? What did he gain?"

"Gain? I do not think 'gain' was his intention. Lord Cregan was not a man to lust for power, not when he saw the destruction such lust could cause. In his wisdom, he chose to serve the realm, rather than himself. The judgements he passed on both members of the black and green factions helped establish a peace that would last for years and prevent further rebellion."

"So what does Rhaegar mean when he mentions that in the letter? Does he want me to wait till the end of the war to swoop in and restore order? Am I to just watch the realm burn or add to the fire?"

Luwin rose and faced his lord, "I believe he simply wants you to hear him out and make your own judgements."

Ned gave a hollow laugh, "My judgement? What judgement is that? Inaction? I can barely restrain my own bannermen, maester. My 'judgement' is any other man's folly."

"Perhaps, my lord," Luwin murmured, "But you've kept your stance strong and there are few in the North who would go against a Stark."

"But I cannot stand to do it alone... Very well. Send a raven to Howland Reed at Moat Cailin. Tell him to escort this envoy here but to keep the Neck watched and closed."

"Of course my lord," Luwin said, bowing deeply, "Perhaps the envoy may give us some good terms."

Ned could only chuckle darkly, "We can only hope..."

All at once came a pounding at the door and Ser Rodrik's voice could be heard without, "My lord! I must talk to you!"

When the whiskered knight was let into the room he moved quickly to the table, "My lord, young master Benjen is gone!"

"Gone!?"

Cassel nodded, "His maid went in to see if he had blown out his candle yet but when she went in she found his bed empty and no one else as seen him!"

"Mayhaps he is sneaking food from the kitchens," Luwin supplied.

"Or been kidnapped by one of the dragons to win our swords," the knight retorted.

Ned stood quickly and grabbed his cloak, "Ser Rodrik, sound the alarm. I want all men up and searching the grounds. Check the stables to make sure all horses are there and that every postern gate is secured. Maester Luwin, go tell Farlen to get his hounds out and sniffing!"

* * *

"Benjen!"

"Master Benjen!"

"Ben!"

"Benjen!"

The yells of searchers and the barking of hounds echoed within the walls of Winterfell as Ned wandered about the godswood, his lantern shining before him. It had been an hour since Ser Rodrik had informed him of his missing brother and none knew where he might be. The hounds were circling the yard, barking and sniffing but never picking up the lad's scent. Every room had been searched from the maester's turret to the deep dungeons beneath the First Keep. And Ned had gone through the godswood twice, scouring every tree and rock.

The night was cloudy and the moon shed no light on the castle, making the godswood as dark and foreboding as the Haunted Forest beyond the Wall. Ned watched the light of his lantern reveal the dark pool and the hollow face of the weirwood and shivered at it.

The eyes seemed to follow him as he passed by and he could swear someone was behind those hollow openings.

"Where are you Benjen..." he wondered out loud, if only to break the silence of the godswood.

 _Dead_.

The voice came to him and he turned about to see who had spoken but there was no one there but him and the trees and it echoed about in his mind that he did not know if it had been spoken or been a mere thought.

 _Dead?_ he thought again. And then his eyes widened and he hurried from the godswood.

Sure enough, when he got there, he found the door to the crypts open, its cold stone stairs descending into the deep dark home of the long dead King's of Winter. As Ned went down, he watched as the golden light of the lantern danced on the cold grey walls.

 _As cold and grey as the men it houses_.

Finally, after passing statue after statue of deceased Starks, he saw a faint light gleaming up ahead with a small shadow crouched in front of it. As he got closer, the shadow grew distinct gangly arms and legs as well as dark brown hair that fell down to the neck.

The figure must have heard the footsteps approaching for it swung its small candle and thrust it into the dark. A pale boyish face stared back at Ned, its eyes red with cheeks marked by cruel red lines.

He had been crying.

"Ben..." Ned asked, slowly stepping to him, "Why are you down here?"

The lad drew his arm to wipe at his cheeks before responding, "I-I wanted to see how th-the statues were coming along..."

At that, Ned turned to see the two large lumps of stone set into the alcove. Already the arms and hands were becoming visible from the sculptor's work.

"They look nothing like them..."

Ned placed a hand on the bony shoulders of his brother, "They will. Errig is the best sculptor in the North. In time..."

Silence filled the lull in talk before Ben spoke, his voice hardly a whisper, "We don't even have the bones..."

"We'll keep looking."

Ned knew that was a lie. Their father's bones were most likely nothing but ash, scattered across the Riverlands while Brandon's body had been thrown into the river with so many others to sink far off in the Bay of Crabs. But he would never tell Ben that. Not ever.

Ben's face contorted into a scowl, "It isn't fair! Father and Brandon did nothing wrong! Brandon was getting married! It isn't fair! I barely remember mother and she is gone! Now father and Brandon follow!"

"I'm sorry, Ben," Ned tried to comfort him, "It hurts to lose someone. I remember losing mother. Lyanna cried. Brandon ruined his sword by hacking a tree. And Father would not leave her room..."

"And you?"

Ned just gave a small smile, "I was making sure people remembered you... Your little smiles helped me a lot..." Ben smiled at that. "And, you still have me and Lyanna."

"But Lyanna is so far away with Robert!"

"But still just a raven away."

"I guess," Ben sighed, "Thanks, Ned..."

"Well, in any case, you need rest..."

Eddard offered his hand and Benjen took it, as the two of them set out back to the surface...

* * *

 **Sorry for the delay guys! Hope you liked this chapter! Reviews are welcome and read. See you next time!**


	4. Bogged Down Travels

The Neck sprawled before Cersei like a vast green ocean with tall trees cresting like waves and broken through by small islands of weirwood's red leaves. The sun's setting brought with it choruses of croaks and ribbes, caws and hisses and the occasional roar that made Jeyne Algood tremble in her dresses. The Lannister party had entered the swamps and bogs of the Neck four days prior after receiving an "escort" of Frey outriders.

"Escort," Tygett had grumbled darkly, "Old Walder probably sent them out to divest us of any valuables before running us off. But obviously they didn't figure how many of us there was and how well armored we are."

The small band of twenty or so horsemen had been lead by a broad buffoon of a man who claimed the name Merrett Frey and also claimed the honor of being fostered with Jamie at Crakehall. Though both Cersei and Tygett deduced that the fostering was certainly his only honor as he had not been knighted.

"I remember Ser Jamie quite fondly!" Frey had boasted as the party made their way up the Kingsroad, "Good friends we were and I hope we still are!"

 _Not bloody likely_ , she had thought to herself, _If Jamie even remembers you it is probably with a bit of annoyance, much like how I will remember you._

The Freys had tried every means of persuasion to get them to spend a night at the Twins, first warning of the dangers of the Neck, then of the hospitality of their Lord, and finally insisting that the food was quite good.

Uncle Tygett had put the pompous oaf in his place when he wheeled his horse around and firmly said, "Your offer is generous indeed. But we have schedule to keep. However, should your _honorable_ Lord Walder crave a Lannister's company, I'm sure my brother would welcome Lord Walder and his men at the war camp in Harrenhal along with all the other _loyal_ lords of the Riverlands."

The jibe had made a few of the horsemen sneer and grumble but it flew fully over the head of Merrett who grinned like an idiot and declared that he would deliver the offer personally to Lord Walder.

 _And get a clout in the ear for it no doubt._

But as much as the Freys had been an annoying presence, they had also been a quite disconcerting one when the group reached the beginnings of the Neck. Where once the trees along the road had been rather beautiful and full, bit by bit along the road north they began to become gnarled and warped with fewer leaves on some or with others being overgrown. Eventually when they had come across the skull of a lizard lion on a thick wooden stake plowed into the ground, the Freys gave a rather hasty farewell before thundering back south down the road.

At first Cersei had just taken them for cowards but she soon learned that there was good reason to fear the Neck.

The first few hours in the Neck had claimed much from the unprepared group of Westerlanders. One of the wagons had been pulled into the mire when the team of horses leading it got spooked when a large snake crossed in front of them. However when the horses began to try to get out of the water, they had been pulled back into the murky ponds by something that hissed and roared. The terrified neighing only stopped when both beasts fell under the water and did not surface as the once green water began to take on a somewhat red hue.

After that, her uncle had ordered that men walk alongside the horses to ensure that the beasts wouldn't get away again should they get spooked. But the men themselves fared no better.

One of the guards, a household guard from Casterly Rock, a big man named Ovin was bitten by an odd colored snake as they set up camp the first night in a putrid glen filled with mud and puddles. He had laughed it off and said it hurt naught badly. The next morning he had been found dead in his blankets, skin grey and clammy, a look of pain permanently etched on his face.

From then on, no one was eager to go to sleep. Jeyne would sometimes scream in the night, thinking a snake was on her leg about to kill her only to find out that one of her blankets had wrapped about it. The men would always give their boots a good shaking before slipping them on and torches were kept lit all night in case they were needed to ward off the vile creatures.

The journey through the Neck soon became unbearable. The days were wet and cloudy when swarms of flies would surround one's head and buzz about the ears and in one's hair. The nights were sleepless with biting flies, loud swamp creatures and figures in the fog.

Finally they had come to this hill that sat alongside the rode and provided them with a campsite that would at least be dry. All about Cersei, large tents of red and gold were set up while she could see sentries walking back and forth along the bottom of the hill.

As the sun's last rays vanished from sight, she turned and headed back into her tent. The inside was pleasantly warm and actually quite dry, furnished with chairs, cots, and red all about. At the center of the tent sat a large table, laden with bowls of barley soup with carrots, loaves of dark bread, salted beef that had been cooked well in its juices, and a flagon of wine.

Sitting at the table were her companions. Lenelle, a distant Lannisport cousin, was sharing a jape with Elya Jast. Jeyne Algood was sniffling a bit as she sipped at her soup, still suffering from a chill. Septa Teselle was conversing quietly with Jeyne Falwell, who everyone called Pale Jeyne due to her almost unhealthy complexion. And at the head of the table, with an empty seat beside him sat Tygett Lannister.

Cersei put on her airs of nobility and gracefully wished everyone a good evening as she made her way to her seat. Jeyne offered a stuffy greeting and the other ladies offered their own as well. Uncle Tygett merely gave a grunt as he took another bite of the beef.

"So, uncle," she said, sitting down into her chair, "How much longer till we are out of this horrid bog?"

Tygett Lannister chewed his beef some more before swallowing and grunting, "Not long."

"That's what you said two days ago."

"Compared to a year this is hardly long."

Cersei glowered at her Uncle who continued eating. She couldn't say she was surprised at his behavior. Tygett was glib of tongue and rarely gave out courtesy. He simply did what ever duty her father gave him and that was it.

"Very well," she said, "And how many days is not long?"

"Two if we make good time."

"And if we do not?"

"Then we'll get there when we get there. This is the easy part. The harder part will be convincing the guards at Moat Cailin to let us pass."

Cersei scoffed, pouring a glass of wine, "From what I hear, it is just a ruin. We have enough men here to storm a holdfast. Besides, we bear the King's banner as well as my father's. They will let us pass."

"That all depends on how they view your father," Tygett eyed her, "And if Rhaegar is their king."

"Surely they must accept him," Lenelle spoke up, "Viserys Targaryen is just a boy."

"But the North even rose in favor of a female claim in the Dance. There is no telling with their savage lot," Pale Jeyne countered, using her vast time in her library that gave her such a white pallor.

Uncle Tygett simply snorted, "Savage or not, it is their forces that will either raise Rhaegar to a rightful kingship or break his army against the Hightowers."

Elya Jast just peeped up, indignant, "Everyone knows Rhaegar is the true King! He is older than Viserys!"

The other ladies in attendance bobbed their heads up and down in agreement. _Like clucking hens looking for seeds_ , Cersei couldn't help but think. Her uncle just gave a small laugh that stopped the nodding.

"Aye, Rhaegar is older. Aerion Brightflame was older that Aegon the Unlikely as well. And before him, Rhaegel was elder brother to King Maekar. Age does not solely give kingship. A crown of a former king helps, but Rhaegar bears the crown of Aegon III while his younger brother wears Maekar's. Marriage to a powerful house works as well. But Rhaegar is married to Lords Paramount and Viserys is set to marry into a house that might as well be. Oft times, the decision was made according to who held the Iron Throne. But King's Landing is ashes and the Red Keep a near ruin. That is no longer the strong seat it once was. So now, it is down to blood. Blood and battle. And we'll see more of it before the end. Swords are forged in fire, and Kings in blood. And we'll need the Starks and their friends if we want to make sure it isn't our blood in the forging."

The room remained silent as Tygett finished up. Jeyne's sniffles seemed to have stopped at the dark words of the knight. Cousin Lanelle looked as though she was trying to digest a slug. Pale Jeyne seemed even paler and Septa Teselle had a tentative look on her wrinkled face.

And Cersei... Cersei had a lot to think on. Kingmaking was indeed a risky business with a possibility for great profit but also a threat of great failure. So why had her father joined in so early into the conflict? Had he hoped Elia might die in the conflict so that she may marry Rhaegar? Was he that confident in Rhaegar's victory?

Her thoughts were interrupted as her uncle finished his wine and stood up, giving a slight bow, "Now, if you will excuse me, I have some orders to give before turning in. Cersei. Ladies." And with that his large frame stalked out of the tent entrance.

The women all wished him a good night before continuing with their pointless discussions about silks and songs or whatever their feather filled heads could think about. All while Cersei's mind raced to why Tywin Lannister was playing the loyal bannerman...

* * *

Cersei tried to keep up with her uncle as he lead her through the thick mist, a flaming torch sputtering in his hand. She had to keep up. The torch was the only thing keeping the mists away. He couldn't leave her behind. She wouldn't last long alone.

"Where are we going uncle?" she asked.

The older man did not respond but picked up his pace, muttering, "Forward. Must go forward or all is lost."

Cersei grew indignant, "I demand to know where we are going."

"Forward."

"To where."

"To where all must go.

Cersei gripped his shoulder to pull him around to look her in the face but was horrified when she was confronted not with the face of her uncle but a grinning skull.

"We all must go forward," it clacked its jaws together before its arm fell to the ground, the armor protecting only dry bones.

Cersei screamed in horror as the skeleton fell apart, the bones and platemail creating a haunting clanging that echoed all about her. The torch fell to the ground with its arm and sputtered in the muddy dirt, threatening to go out. Cersei reached for it but in a matter of seconds the ground swallowed it up, leaving her with nothing but darkness.

She called out for help, begging, pleading with anyone to come to her aid. She may have been calling out for a few minutes or an eternity when she spotted a small light off in the distance.

Without hesitation she ran toward it, seeing the light source grow until she made out that it was three lanterns hanging outside a oddly colored tent. There was something familiar about it...

Quietly, she moved toward the entrance to open the flap but was stopped when she heard a voice, "When will I wed the prince?"

Her breath stopped. The voice was young, proud, arrogant. Hers. And the question was so familiar...

"You will not marry the Prince," croaked back an old voice, "But you will marry the man you truly love."

Cersei's eyes widened and she threw open the flap to see the ugly fortune teller, Maggy the Frog, grinning at a little blonde girl with teeth red with blood. Neither seemed to notice her though as the girl continued, "So I will not be queen?"

"Nay," Maggy shook her wrinkled head, "But you shall be as powerful and wealthy as one until you are thrown down by the False-Named."

"Stop asking her questions you little fool!" Cersei yelled at the girl but still the girl asked on.

"How many children will we have then?"

"You will have eight children and he shall have nine. Yours will steal crowns, hearts, armies, and minds. But in the end, it will be his child who will hold the realm in hand."

Child Cersei shook her head, "It will never happen. I won't let it!"

Maggy cackled before her yellow eyes bored into the elder Lannister as though she could see her, "You will try to keep your children's power and renown but one by one they will be stripped from you. And when you are alone and in the cold of winter, you will give your life for that of the Exiled Queen."

Cersei yelled, "Prophecy is not real! It is not!"

But the old witch just cackled and cackled, the dry rasping laugh echoing in her ears as the witch, her younger self and the tent all started to melt about her, colored cloth giving way to the cold void that dwelt outside it.

A hand gripped her and she looked to see her mother to her right, "Wake up, child it is just a dream."

Another hand gripped her from the left, her father's deadly eyes digging into her, "Wake up. Lannisters do not dream."

She turned to face ahead to see Jamie smiling sadly at her, "Wake up. We were just a dream."

"Wake up! Wake up!" a crow croaked from above in an almost jeering manner as it circled her, "Wake up! Wake up!"

The figures leaned in toward her as the crow circled lower, its three eyes piercing into her.

"Wake up, sweet."

"I command you to wake!"

"Will we ever wake?"

CAW!

"It is just a dream..."

"Listen to me!"

"We were just foolish children..."

CAW!

"North..."

CAW!

Cersei sat up with a yell as the caw of the crow turned into a rumble of thunder and the voices of her family melted into the soft pitter-patter of rain on canvas. Her skin was clammy with a cold sweat and her breathing still hitched and forced herself to gulp as much air as she could.

Emerald eyes scanned the room to see who she had disturbed with her nightmare only to see everyone fast asleep, Jeyne huddled and sniffling under her thick blanket, Septa Teselle snoring against a tent post, and Elya letting out little coos and giggles in a dream of her own.

The Lannister lay back down into her cot and tried to go back to sleep, wondering when they would get out of this horrid bog that she couldn't even escape in her dreams...

* * *

The escape came the next evening when the ruins of Moat Cailin were seen, rising like broken fingers above the mire. The ruins were old and shattered, their stones chipped and the mortar that held them was covered in moss and ivy. A wooden cause way passed between two towers. The tallest was thin and crumbling while the other leaned forward, almost threatening to tumble into the marsh about it. Ahead, the causeway passed under an ancient gatehouse whose portcullis was lowered over it. For all her uncle had praised it, Moat Cailin looked hardly formidable.

"What a ghastly ruin," Cersei muttered as they passed between the crumbling sentinels, "We could take this if we wanted to. There isn't even anyone here."

"I wouldn't be to sure about that Cersei," Ser Tygett grunted upon his black destrier, "That ancient gatehouse is old and thick. The land around it is mostly just water, and the entire surround is just one big target for the towers. As for no one manning it..." he nodded forward as a hooded figure stepped out onto the ramparts above the gate as the group approached.

"Halt!" a rather young voice called out from the figure above, "State your identity and your business!"

Cersei glared up at the man, "Are you blind to our banners or are you so old that you mistake this for the sigil of the Casterlys!"

A tight grip appeared on her arm and she turned to see her uncle glowering at her before looking up himself, "I am Ser Tygett of House Lannister and the... commanding maiden with me is my niece, Cersei daughter of Tywin. I have been commanded by my brother and our liege, King Rhaegar, to act as an ambassador to bring terms of alliance to Lord Stark at Winterfell!"

"Ambassador and terms," Cersei muttered spitefully to her uncle, "More like a brothel owner peddling flesh..."

"Quiet," her uncle responded gruffly as the figure above them disappeared into the gatehouse. The bog was silent for a few moments afterward before the clinking and grinding of the rising portcullis interrupted it. The same hooded figure they had seen above stepped from behind it, pulling back his hood and giving them a better look at him.

He wore simple yet well tended brown clothes and soft looking shoes that made no sound as he stepped toward them. But it was his hooded cloak which interested Cersei more. None could deny it was green in color, but the shades of green were not whole throughout. The cloth was not whole as might be expected but a large variety of scraps stitched together in such a way that it almost looked like he was wearing leaves, moss, and wood. But then she saw something glint on his breast. There, hanging about his neck was a bronze pendant with a lizard lion imprinted upon it.

The man himself seemed nothing too memorable either. He seemed to be about her age with dark brown hair, the slight whispy beginnings of a beard on his face, and soft looking dark green eyes.

He gave them a small smile, "Greetings Ser Tygett and Lady Cersei. I was expecting your arrival but still had to ask to truly know if it was you."

Tygett nodded, "You have my thanks, ser..."

"I am no ser," the man laughed softly, "Merely a humble servant of Winterfell, with orders to escort you straight to Winterfell upon your arrival."

"How did you know of our arrival?" Cersei butted in.

"Raven," the man replied, "King Rhaegar sent a message to Lord Stark to allow you passage into the North. Apparently my lord found it to be worth his time."

Her uncle nodded, "Well we thank you for your assistance. Allow us to return the favor. You seem to be undergarrisoned here. I could leave some of my men here to help hold it down."

The man simply gave him an almost enigmatic smile, "No need. After all, you've had a thousand arrows pointed at you as you came up that causeway. Just because you cannot see something doesn't mean it isn't there."

Cersei could not contain herself any longer, "You mean you've been ready to kill us just for approaching!"

"There is a large difference between being ready to kill and killing. Do not be alarmed. We would not have attacked without reason."

She was about to give the little man a scathing opinion of the large difference between decent folk and him when her uncle prevented her from doing so, "Well, lead on then. But as we are traveling together, might I ask you your name?"

The man smiled, pulling up his hood, "I am Lord Reed of Greywater Watch, but you may simply call me Howland."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry if you are really impatient for Cersei and Ned meeting but it will be coming up in the chapter after next as the next chapter I hope to have multiple points of view all circling our favorite river fishes. Review and favorite if it catches your fancy or simply follow along for the ride.**


	5. Arriving at the Den

**Quick note, in my last chapter I said I would be focusing on the Tullys but I've decided to leave their storyline in the background for now. They will pop up every now and again but I'm gonna try to focus on the main parts of the war and Cersei and Ned's story. Also, sorry for not posting sooner, summer is not always relaxing when you have a kitchen to redo. But here's some more!  
**

* * *

It was a chilled, windy morning that found the household of Winterfell standing in the yard beside the King's Gate, awaiting the imminent arrival of their southern guests. Word had come a few hours previous of a host of mounted men, foot soldiers, and wagons all bearing a golden lion on crimson.

 _Lannisters._

Ned should have guessed the Lords of the West would be the primary representatives of Rhaegar as they were the most powerful house to have sworn him fealty. After all, he could hardly send the Tyrells who were holed up in Highgarden, sending out ravens begging aid and lasting friendship with those who would help. Nor could he rely on the Tullys and their fractured castle and homeland...

The thought of the riverlords brought back memories of a raven in the night, of the sobs of Benjen, of a somber maester proclaiming him lord of Winterfell.

 _I'm not a lord. This is not my place. It was never supposed to be. I'm a usurper of my brother's inheritance..._

"This is stupid."

Before he could go too deep into his dark thoughts, the irritated voice of Benjen had brought him back to the present. To say Benjen was unhappy about being forced from his warm bed into the cold morning would be an understatement. Already the boy's face was stuck in a icy grimace that poked from under his heavy fur-lined cloak.

 _A rather apt image for a Stark,_ Ned couldn't help but think.

"It won't be too long," he tried to reassure Ben, "As soon as they get here we can all go back in and you can see to what you were hoping to do today."

"I was hoping to sleep," Benjen pulled the cloak tighter about himself, "What do these southerners want with us? Do they just want to see if we are well? Sit down for a nice meal and talk about the weather?"

Ned sighed as he looked up at the Stark banners that fluttered in the gusty wind against a cloudy sky. _Grey on grey._ "They are here to discuss the North giving support to Rhaegar in his claim to the crown."

Benjen's face remained soured, "Fuck Rhaegar and his crown. No more northmen should die for the Dragons."

"We've yet to see..." Ned muttered as the sound of horses coming across the drawbridge heralded the arrival of their new guests.

Sure enough, in a matter of seconds a party of armed men on horses pooled through the gate in a company of red and gold that clashed almost violently with the dour and austere grey of the castle about them. The Lion of Lannister hung high from banners more bold and proud than the direwolf of the Starks could ever dream of being.

From amongst the riders moved forward the one who distinguished himself as the leader. Tall, muscled, clad in armor that held no polish or decoration but a simple steel lion imprinted over the heart. Indeed, many would have assumed this man to be at most a simple guardsmen for the Rock, but it was the bearing the man held in him that proved to Ned that this must be Tygett Lannister. As the man stepped down from his horse, he moved confidently, true in every move. His long blonde hair, forced into a uniform ponytail barely swayed as he strode forward to Ned, every bit of his being demanding to be recognized as a warrior.

The knight stopped a few feet from Ned, steely green eyes examining him before giving a respect filled nod, "Lord Stark. I am Ser Tygett Lannister, here on behalf of His Grace, King Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name and True King of the Seven Kingdoms as well as my brother, Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King. I am gifted with the authority of both men in the matters of negotiation and am instructed to stay until an accord is reached or a solid rejection is pronounced."

 _Seven hells,_ Ned thought, _He even talks like a trained soldier._

The brisk nature of the knight had thrown Ned off by quite a bit. All the southerners he had met previously had ranged from charming to petulant. Never... professional.

But Ned saved face quick enough by giving his own respectful nod in kind, "Ser Tygett, welcome to Winterfell. We are honored by your visit and and are eager to hear your entreaties when you have settled in."

A terse silence arose as Ned awaited some southern polite comment or hidden slight that he had gotten accustomed to in the Vale, but Tygett said nothing, just staring at him, as if he would only talk if it was related to business. So Ned took the initiative and pushed forward Benjen slightly who still held a disgruntled face.

"This is my brother, Benjen," he said somewhat awkwardly, "He's been, ehm, rather excited by the idea of visitors in Winterfell."

"Ecstatic..." the lanky lad ground out as he glared at the knight.

If Ser Tygett was even capable of noticing sarcasm, he didn't seem to show and gave a stiff nod to Benjen as well, "A pleasure."

"Eh-hem, will you introduce me, _dear uncle_ , or must I do so myself?"

Tygett turned and both Ned and Benjen followed his gaze to the figure dismounting a white mare, dressed in red and gold.

 _She's beautiful..._ is all Ned could think at that moment.

* * *

 _How plain..._ is all Cersei could think at that moment.

She found Winterfell utterly underwhelming when compared to the tales spread south of the indomitable fortress of the Starks. Those tales claimed the walls were so thick that if they fell, they would be as tall on their side as they were previous and that the castle itself was imbued by some ancient magic that Brandon The Builder had instilled in it that her nurse maid called The Heart of Winter.

Nonsense all of it. What Cersei saw before her was a simple grey castle with every brick showing its age. True, it was rather large but the Rock would tower over it. Indeed, it was most likely defensible but she had read in her histories of how the Red Bolton Kings had sacked it multiple times before being put down. The Rock had never fallen, it was merely given over.

And she now knew that the owners of the keep were just as plain. The one her uncle was conversing with, as though she was never there, was tall and decently muscled. That drew her eye a bit but the rest of him was plain. His hair was a dull brown, his eyes a cool grey, and his face was long and all together boring. The lad beside him, his brother Cersei surmised, had the bearing of a child still growing into an adult, lanky and ungainly, all knees and elbows. And the boy's face was just as plain as his brother's, just more impertinent.

Deciding she was tired of being ignored she cleared her throat, "Will you introduce me, _dear uncle_ , or must I do so myself?"

The three men turned to look at her and she got three different reactions. Her uncle characteristically grimaced, the elder Stark raised his eyebrows in surprise, and the younger Stark needed to pick his jaw off the ground.

"Well? Must I do it?"

Tygett cleared his throat and tried to put on the facade that he actually respected her, "And this is my niece, Lady Cersei, daughter of Lord Tywin."

She gave them as much of a smile as she could muster in her state.

Lord Stark quickly regained composure and approached her, taking her hand and giving it a gentle kiss.

 _His lips are so soft and tentative..._ the thought came unbidden to her mind and she drove it out, though it intrigued her.

"Welcome, Lady Cersei," her possible betrothed said in a calm and kind voice, "It is a pleasure to have you here with us as well. Forgive me but we were not expecting a lady to be joining the diplomatic mission."

 _He doesn't know either_ , the thought raced through her mind, _father and Rhaegar want to play it off both of us. Though it is a better deal for him. He gets me and his home. I lose mine._

"Yes, well," her uncle spoke, "I believe she will be vital to the negotiations."

 _As a bit of chattel to be auctioned off like a prized stier._

Lord Stark nodded in assent, "Very well. We shall have chambers be made ready for Lady Cersei and her companions. Benjen here will show them to their rooms," he motioned toward the younger lad, "And I will show you to yours, Ser Tygett."

Her uncle nodded in assent and the group moved into the Great Keep of Winterfell while the servants began to unload the wagons.

* * *

Cersei found the inside of Winterfell to be surprisingly warm compared to its outer exterior. The stones that had looked cruel and foreboding on the outside, looked sturdy and comforting from within. Long pelted carpets lined the hallways and many old shields and tapestries hung from the walls.

Her uncle and Lord Eddard had departed down another corridor towards what Cersei could guess would be his quarters. In the mean time, she and her ladies followed the gangly Stark down the hallways though found it rather difficult as the youth took long quick strides as though he hoped on losing them. Cersei wouldn't let it stand.

"Would you slow down?" she spoke in her best polite tone though it came out more as exasperated.

Benjen turned around for just half a second, "No." And continued his striding forward.

Cersei stopped at the sudden response which resulted in Jeyne Algood to collide into her back before regaining her balance. "No?"

"Yes," the Stark said as he turned, "No. Understand?"

Cersei just glared at him.

"Hmm," Benjen pretended to think, "Maybe I'm not saying it in proper Southron. Ahem," he bowed mockingly low with a foot extended on its heel, "I humble respond to the fair lady that I shall not slow down my walk and that if she so wishes to get to her room, she will move her dainty little legs faster no matter how tiring it may be to her delicate southern disposition."

The boy looked back up with a grin plastered on his face, like a cat proudly displaying a caught mouse to its owner. Though his smile faltered a bit at the face of the Lannister woman. Cersei's emerald eyes had ignited with something that made them shine like wildfire. Her ladies shifted uncomfortable behind her, moving from foot to foot.

Quietly and deliberately, Cersei strode forward towards Benjen, towering over the younger boy as her smooth voice attempted to escape gritted teeth, "It is customary for guests to be treated honorably by their host."

"Good thing my brother is the host then. I didn't even want you here."

"Indeed. You would have made a poor lord."

"Funny, I think you make a poor lady."

The two stared holes into each other, fiery green into determined grey. The stare held for what seemed to be hours to the group before a soft voice spoke up.

"Please, Master Benjen," Jeyne Algood stepped forward demurely, "We are very tired from our journey and simply want to rest. I'm sorry you didn't want us here, but once you lead us to the rooms, you will not have to deal with us any more..."

Benjen's tense shoulders seemed to sag at the girl's words and slowly his face became somewhat ashamed. He turned to the group of ladies, purposefully ignoring Cersei, "My apologies, my ladies. I forget you have only just arrived. Please follow me to your chambers." He turned to Cersei and almost patronizingly said, "You can come along if you wish. I'll be sure to walk much slower."

Cersei flushed as crimson as her dress but the young Stark and gone around a corner with the ladies in tow long before she could return with a crushing response.

* * *

"I trust your journey was safe and smooth?" Ned spoke up as he and Ser Tygett moved down the corridor towards the latter's chambers.

"Indeed," Tygett responded, "Though we had some troubles in the Neck. Lost several horses to the mire and beasts."

Ned smiled and gave a sympathetic nod, "Lizard lions?"

"Most likely. Tell me, Lord Stark, how old is your brother?"

"Benjen?" Ned's thoughts stopped for one moment. _How old **was** Benjen? _ Ned had been away in the Eyrie for so long that... He took a guess, "Four and ten."

Ser Tygett nodded his head thoughtfully, his ponytail brushing up and down his back, "Four and ten eh? Good formative years. It's then that a young man learns the finer points of combat. Do you have anyone in mind that he could squire for?"

"No, ser," Ned shook his head, "Here in the North, knights are a rarity. The only ones that come to mind are Ser Bartimus who is in the service of House Manderly of White Harbor and Ser Rodrik Cassel, our Master-at-Arms here in Winterfell, though he hardly needs a squire."

"Well then, perhaps you would consider having him squire for me?"

Ned started to ascend a flight of stairs and looked behind him and gave a questioning look, "Why would you wish for my brother to squire for you."

The knight shrugged his shoulders, "Simply put, he shows great promise. I noticed how he stared me and my niece down. Takes bollocks to stare down a lion. Suffice to say that he has earned a deal of my respect in that."

"I shall think on it," was the only response Ned could give at the time. He'd have to take some time to consider it fully and what it could mean. A knighthood could do well for Benjen, maybe even get him his own lands. But it would also take him away from his home sooner than later. Yes, it was worth considering. "Your niece," he moved onto the floor with Ser Tygett's chambers, "did not seem overly pleased to be here."

Tygett waved it off in his gravelly voice, "Take no offense, Lord Stark. She always looks displeased when she doesn't get her way. I will admit, she was not interested in coming but my brother thought it would be a good and necessary choice to send her along."

"Will she be taking part in these negotiations?"

"In a way."

The two stopped outside the chambers and Ned opened the door for the knight, "Well then we shall see to negotiations tonight after dinner, once you are all settled of course."

"Indeed," Ser Tygett gave a small bow, "And thank you for your warm welcome Lord Stark. I know these are not ideal times but I am grateful you are still willing to show honest hospitality."

Ned just returned it with a distant smile, "Well our honor is one thing us Starks do not sacrifice."

* * *

 **Sorry this took so long! Hope you like it. Not much action, I know but at least Cersei and Ned have met. Next chapter we will be going to the court of Viserys III to see how things in the other camp are going.**


End file.
